


Casual Functions

by Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Christmas With Family, F/M, Family, Family Dynamics, Gen, Life day, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8989972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler/pseuds/Lt_Cmdr_Scribbler
Summary: A prompt: "We shouldn't be here."Or, in which the plot bunny ran away from me and I made 1k of dysfunctional Life Day cheer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to hoiist on tumblr for sending me the prompt.

Vector had never seen Setrala act like this before. After returning to the ship, she would usually retreat to the medical bay to treat any wounds that she hadn’t had time to treat in the field, and then retreat to her quarters to be alone. Today, Setrala did not emerge from the medical bay for approximately three hours. Normally, Vector tried not to pry into Setrala’s head too much, as he knew how she felt about sharing herself with others. However, his concern for his colleague/friend/handler outweighed the advice presented from past experiences, and he knocked on the medical bay door.

Obediently, the door slid open, revealing Setrala, who had laid down on a biobed, wearing the grey duramesh bodysuit that she wore under her armour. Her solid-scarlet eyes flinched open at the sound, but the tension melted off her body when she realised it was Vector.

“Yes, Vector?”

“Agent, we would not normally ask this, as we know you value your privacy, but we must ask: Are you well?”

With a scoff, Setrala hauled herself up into a sitting position on the bed, and rolled her shoulders slightly. “I am well, Vector. Troubled, perhaps, but well.”

"If we may ask, what troubles you?”

Setrala answered the question in a way that Vector had expected from her: by asking another question. “When you were fully human, did you attend annual family Life Day celebrations?”

The question caught him off-guard, and he took several moments to formulate his answer, sifting through memories that he double-checked for the young, witty green-eyed man he remembered being. “Yes, when we were available. Many times our duties within the Diplomatic Service took us too far away, but we made sure to comm our parents when possible. Why do you ask?”

Setrala took a deep breath in before answering, exhaling slowly. “My… adoptive parents,” she began slowly, “have invited me to the Life Day celebration they hold on Nar Shaddaa each year. It will be quiet, family-only. However, there are some… complications.”

“Do they require you to bring a “plus-one”?”

A confused sapphire smile bloomed on Setrala’s face, and a flash of cool blue amusement coloured her aura. “What makes you think that?”

Vector smiled at both her and at the memory that he found. “It was a constant request of our parents on each year that we could confirm our presence.”

Setrala’s smile became rueful as she answered, “Well, it certainly isn’t a requirement, as they know the dangers of my work, but bringing a guest could result in… further complications. So on that note: Vector, would you mind terribly accompanying me to my clan’s Life Day party?”

“We would never mind doing you a favour, Agent.”

In hindsight, Vector thought, he should have reconsidered this particular favour when he had the chance.

Standing outside on a grand balcony of a Sky Palace of Nar Shaddaa, Vector could sense the presence of Force-Sensitives on the other side of the door. He was surprised how similar they felt to Raina Temple, but the jumbled mix of Light and Dark was nothing like Raina’s deliberate Grey. Vector had fought both Sith and Jedi at his Agent’s side, but tonight she wore a simple dress of cotton and linen, and carried no weapons save two knives and a holdout blaster, and only one of the knives was poisoned.

Vector’s hand strayed to his own hold-out blaster hidden inside his robes. “We shouldn’t be here.”

Unfortunately, Setrala misunderstood his words, hearing _we-as-Dawn-Herald_ when he meant _we-as-Vector-and-Agent_. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “My relatives are strange, to be sure, but I doubt there will be any bloodshed this time.”

Vector reminded himself to tell Setrala that she needed to work on reassurance as a coercion tactic. She wasn’t convincing at all.

The door slid open, and immediately Vector was assaulted with a harmony in the Great Song that he had never expected to hear again. The bouncy tune of a Life Day song trailed from inside the grand parlor of the sky palace, as did the strained collection of voices accompanying the melody.

Setrala, beaming and tapping one foot to the beat, took Vector’s hand. “Come on. They’ve already started the music, so that’s a good sign.”

Vector allowed himself to be lead, regretting his decision to not wear gloves. Setrala’s aura tasted of frost and spices, and the way it tingled across his skin distracted him. If the situation devolved to violence, he could not afford to be distracted.

The main room contained such an array of people and objects that he would never think to connect to Setrala, Vector didn’t know where to direct his attention first: the Twi’lek woman singing and being swung around by a bald Human man, the Cathar pouring himself a drink, or the two Chiss women conversing eagerly while taking cookies off of various platters. The enormous fir tree imported from Kashyyk, the twinkling of lights next to hand-made ornaments, or the open bar that stretched across one wall. Setrala squeezed his hand in hers, sensing how overwhelmed he was.

One of the Chiss girls spotted Setrala, and shot her arm high in air and started waving. “Rala! You made it!”

The other one, with a long scar across her face and a flat Republic accent, scoffed. “As if she wouldn’t show up.”

“Chell, Callie,” Setrala answered, and Vector was surprised at the use of diminutives and the genuine _fondness_ in his Agent’s voice, especially regarding the Republic Chiss, who’s face Vector found vaguely familiar, but hard to place.

“Setrala!” cried the Twi’lek woman, who, upon closer inspection, wore robes reminiscent of the Dark Council. Her accent was crisply Imperial, and yet “Callie” didn’t flinch at all, but rather had the expression his Agent usually wore when she “rolled her eyes”.

Speaking of Cipher Nine, her smile grew tight and cold. “Darth Kallig.”

The Darth- _a **Darth** , by the Queen, his Agent was related to Darth Kallig of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge_ -tutted at Setrala. “I thought “leave the shop-talk at the door” was implicit in the invitation.”

“Don’t mind her,” called the bald human with the impressive facial tattoo. “Marr woke her up at four in the morning with a complaint about Xalek harassing one of his apprentices again.”

Setrala let out a bark of laughter at that, and Vector relaxed as the bolt of bright green happiness lit his Agent’s aura. He squeezed her hand as she had for him, and her secret sapphire smile grew on her face again. Vector remembered this feeling from when he had attended similar functions as a younger man, and if this event turned out to be similar to those from his youth, then he was glad to accompany his Cipher to as many of these parties as she needed him to.


End file.
